


Not Tonight

by Crysania



Series: 100 follower prompt-a-thon [9]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repeatinglitanies prompted: Belle is a young inexperienced bride, who is intimidated with her new husband, Mr Gold. Since their wedding night, their nights together start with her saying: "Please, sir. Not tonight." [See end notes for sequel information!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Tonight

He hadn’t intended to take her as his wife. That was a part of the plan that ultimately ended up out of his control. He had only wanted to protect her. The day Mr. Gold walked into Granny’s and Rumplestiltskin walked out was the same day he had walked by the library, head tucked in low, feeling ill and slightly faint, and nearly walked into her… _Belle_. She wasn’t Belle here and he had to be careful not to call her that. Here her name was Lily French and she was the daughter of the town florist, a man who was well known for gambling away most of his money, and hers if he guessed right. Lily French was quiet, almost too quiet. She was only friends with Ruby, the wolf girl, and even that was a sort of a strange unassuming friendship. They were rarely seen outside the diner. Lily never went to Ruby’s outlandish parties, she was always dressed conservatively, overly so even in the summer months, never seemed like she and the taller, scantily-clad girl had much in common.

As Mr. Gold he had basically ignored her like the rest of the town did. She was a wallflower, mostly content to spend her life among the books at the library. But now that he remembered who he was, now that he knew who _she_ was, ignoring her was not in the question. Protecting her was all that mattered now.

He had gone to her father to suggest a deal, to find some way to get her under his protection without either her or her father realizing that the reason for his deal was _her_ and not the money her father owed him. And owe him he did. A lot. It would be well within his rights to take everything the man owned and then some.

But then he had seen the bruise. And the haunted look in her eyes. And he knew he couldn’t leave her there a moment longer. When he had made his unorthodox proposal, he had not expected her to agree to it. But it seemed Lily French was every bit as much the keeper of her own fate as his Belle had been. She seemed worried, confused, not quite as brave and strong as Belle, but she was also resolute. It gave her a chance to escape and to make sure her father would be fine in the process. Why she cared about him, he didn’t even try to understand. He supposed some of that was programmed in by the curse.

There was no real ceremony between the two, no "till death do you part," no "you may kiss the bride." It was all very clinical and the judge who signed the license seemed to find it all rather worrisome. He asked Belle… _Lily_ …no less than three times if she was sure of this. Each time she gave her assent, but it still stung. Belle deserved the world, a wedding that everyone came to, people fawning all over her, and instead was being married off to the town monster in a rather hushed up ceremony.

He knew Storybrooke would talk.

And he knew that Storybrooke would talk even more once everyone woke up and realized that the Dark One had taken a wife.

But it was all he had, all the protection he could offer her. She would no longer have to deal with her father's drunken rages and she would be protected from Regina, who might seek to use her against him once she realized that he knew who he was.

After the licenses were signed, and no congratulations given, the pawnbroker and his bewildered young bride returned to his house. He escorted her in, placing one hand lightly on her back. It was all he dared. He wanted to turn her, pull her into his arms, hold her tight against him and promise that she would never ever come to harm again. But that would scare her. He knew it would.

She walked into the living area and carefully, almost reverently, touched some of the objects gracing the shelves there. He had a lovely assortment of antiques in his home. It was a strange thing to look at them again like this. He had always believed that he kept particular items because they were what would fit best with his décor, that they were the most valuable, the things he didn’t want to sell to a public that might damage them in some way. Now looking around at them, watching her hand ghost over them, he realized that the reality was that each and every one of them had some small meaning to him.

"Would you like a tour?" His voice was quiet, but it still fell heavily into the silence. She started slightly and turned to him. Her mouth twitched, almost turned into a smile, but her huge eyes told him all she needed to know. With a sigh, he continued. "It's a large place, not as large as a castle mind, but you should know your way around."

She nodded. "I'd like that, I think." Her voice was slightly husky and very quiet. He remembered her back in their own realm. She was always fairly quiet, but never like this. He had never hated being unable to cast the curse himself quite so much, instead allowing it out of his control and trusting someone else to do it. Regina had managed to take away that certain spark that made Belle _Belle_. And in her place she left this quiet, unassuming girl. If he had been able to cast the curse he would have made Belle his queen, given her the adventures he knew she always wanted.

He spent some time showing her around his home.. He wanted her to be comfortable. He wanted her to know she had the run of the place, that everything in it was now hers too. She was constantly ghosting her hands over objects. She answered no questions, but seemed enamored of the place. She was especially charmed by the large bathroom and the clawfoot tub. He vowed to pick up bubble bath and large towels so she could enjoy it any time she wanted.

After they finished the tour, with him studiously avoiding showing her his own bedroom for fear of making her nervous, he invited her to the table for dinner. He had prepared the casserole earlier in the day, knowing that she would likely wish to retreat to her own room soon after the agreement was signed.

She acquiesced to dinner, which he was thankful for. She spoke little during the meal and he was uncertain what to say. She was here, safe. He had not thought beyond that.

Finally, as he was finishing the last few bites of the meal, she cleared her throat and looked him square in the eyes. “Why did you want me here?”

He sucked in a quick breath, the words far too familiar to him, a strange echo of a time long ago. “Companionship dear, nothing more.”

She nodded and looked away. He could see her trying to hide a yawn. Standing, he offered her a hand. For a moment she watched him and then finally put one tiny hand in his. He helped her to her feet and steadied her as she swayed. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Shall we retire?”

Her eyes widened slightly and she pulled away from him, standing without his aid, however minimal it might be. “Please sir,” she whispered. “Not tonight.”

He barely heard the last words but they cut right through to his heart, causing the organ he thought long dead to constrict painfully. He gripped the handle of his cane tightly and could feel a muscle in his cheek twitch. “Of course.” He didn’t bring her here for that. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind to take her to his bed. She was here for protection, at least until the curse broke. When she knew who she was, who _he_ was, then consummating this hastily drawn-up marriage could be contemplated…if she truly wish to take an old monster to her bed. He suspected it was far more likely that she would wish to be free of him, return to the father she really knew instead of the cruel father the curse had saddled her with.

“I have a room prepared for you. If it’s not to your liking, you may pick out another room tomorrow.” The words came out tighter than he intended and he was not pleased to see her flinch slightly.

“I’m…sorry.” Her voice went upward at the end, as if she were asking a question.

“Please don’t apologize. I…did not bring you here for that. You are under my protection. You have nothing to fear.” He turned away and walked toward the stairs, his uneven steps feeling even more uneven, heavier tonight. He led her upstairs and showed her to her room, pressing a quick kiss to her brow before leaving her to retire in peace.

Once in his room, he shut the door quietly before turning his cane on the inoffensive items on his dresser, clearing them off in just a few powerful hits. 

* * *

 

Weeks had passed in quiet and near solitude. Each day Mr. Gold stepped into the kitchen at precisely 7:10am and found his Belle already there reading the town newspaper. It seemed that despite her changed persona, she still enjoyed reading. After one disastrous attempt at making breakfast, she had learned to wait for his arrival. He would cook them up a quick breakfast before leaving the house at precisely 7:45am for his pawnshop.

He had asked her more than once if she wished to accompany him to the pawnshop, if she wished to go out. _All that is mine is yours_. He wanted to give her everything and instead all he was able to give her was a home, a place safe from abuses. She seemed content with that and that fact bothered him more than he let on. Belle would never be content with a house and nothing else. She wanted adventure. Lily only wanted solitude. She spent her days quietly puttering about their house, rarely setting foot outside it.

He heard the talk around town, the insinuations, the comments about Gold and his young bride who he never let out of the house. He was the monster and she the fair maiden he had stolen away. Little did they know. Little did they understand. And worst of all, when they regained their memories, they would understand even _less_ than they did now. He suspected a few would try to storm his home and "rescue" her from him. He couldn't say he blamed them, but he also knew he'd protect what was his.

At exactly 5:00pm in the evening he would close up his shop. Once a week he made the rounds and collected rent from those who owed him. The rest of the days he would return home to find Belle curled up on the couch, heaps of blankets on top of her. Sometimes she was just laying there, quiet. He almost would walk past her before he'd see the blankets move. Sometimes she was reading one of the few books he had in the house.

They would have dinner later that evening and the conversation was often stilted, often quiet, sometimes not even there. But he tried. He wasn't used to having someone there with him, sharing his meals and pleasantries. He had tried so hard at the Dark Castle to appear normal, human, not monstrous to her, and yet often ended up doing no more than sipping his tea while Belle chattered on about something she had been reading. She never seemed to notice though. Or if she did, she didn't mind so very much.

Here they struggled. Sometimes she'd remember to ask about his day, her voice soft and hesitant. Sometimes he'd remember to ask if she needed anything, sounding slightly worried and desperate. They both tried and they both failed. He had little to say about the pawnshop. Few came in and even fewer made purchases. She had little to say about her day. She spent most of it doing little more than reading.

Dinner every night ended with him suggesting retiring for the evening the same statement from her. "Please sir, not tonight." It cut straight into his heart. He would never _ever_ force her to consummate this farce of a marriage. Each night he smiled at her, face tight, and assured her that he simply wanted to escort her to her own room and part ways for the night. She always seemed relieved and his worst fear was that she was afraid that one day he wouldn't accept that and take what she thought he must surely want by force. He didn't know how to reassure her, didn't know what to say. So he simply bid her goodnight, gave her a kiss on the top of her head, and disappeared into his own room.

Sometime during the third week he came home and noticed that she was reading a book he was sure she'd read before. He stopped and smiled at her. They were still so awkwardly dancing around each other, so unsure of it all.

"You've read that book before," he said, trying to smile a little bit at her, reassure her that he meant her no harm.

She glanced up at him, her expression far too serious. "I've read them all."

He didn't know how he had forgotten her propensity for reading so quickly. He really had few books in his home, just a handful. As Mr. Gold he never had much time to read. He was too busy running his shop and intimidating the people who owed him money. And as Rumplestiltskin he was simply too concerned about Belle, about breaking the curse, about getting back to his son, about everything that had come crashing back into his mind when he heard Emma Swan's name. Reading was the last thing on his mind right now.

"I'll get you some more." He nodded and was pleased to see her give him one of her rare smiles.

"Would you?" He nodded. "I would love that."

He spent the next week gathering up books, anything he found in his shop, anything the library was looking to get rid of, anything anyone wanted to sell. He had a few hundred and while it wasn’t as many as she deserved, it was a good start.

He thought about sneaking them into the house until he realized that he would have to take several trips upstairs with them and that even if he could hide the tapping of his cane, his ankle likely wouldn’t be able to stand the pain. It had been hard enough getting them into the car. And it was overflowing really. The trunk couldn’t hold all the boxes, so they’re in the back seat, even one box that Mary Margaret was nice enough to rush out to him at the last minute cluttering up the front seat.

When he arrived home that evening, she was in her favorite spot on the couch, curled up under several blankets and staring rather blankly at a book he’d seen her have in hand at least a few times before.

He cleared his throat and her eyes shot to his. "Hey.” She smiled slightly. Her smiles had become less forced over the past few weeks, less nervous, less uncertain. But they still didn’t reach her eyes. “I have something for you.”

He held out a hand to her and she hesitated before finally placing her small hand and in his and allowing him to draw her to her feet. Her head was cocked slightly to the side, an obvious question written across her features. “It’s outside…in the car. I couldn’t bring them in.”

“Them?”

“Just…come see…please?” She nodded and he released her hand to walk slowly out to the car. He could sense her behind him and knew by her hesitant steps that she was confused and maybe a bit worried. She still didn’t completely trust him. He couldn’t say he blamed her for that really. The curse had given her the same memories of him as the rest of the town. He was powerful. He was ruthless. Perhaps the true irony was that for all his power and wealth here in this land without magic, he was _more_ feared in their old land and still she saw through the disguise, still she loved him. He wondered if she could love him here, when he was nothing but a crippled old man with a cane.

He opened the passenger side door and waved her ahead of him. She was uncertain but stepped in toward the car and looked down. “Oh.” The word was said with such awe that he released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Are these all for me?”

“Of course.” She turned then and quite suddenly he found himself with an armful of Belle. She wrapped herself around him in the same way, and though he knew she was Lily here, he came close to calling her by her real name.

“Yes, yes dear.” He disentangled himself from her. He liked the feeling too much, wanted her pressed up against him, wanted to take her lips in a kiss. He didn’t dare. But oh how he wanted to. “There are more in the trunk.” She let him go with a slight squeak and waited for him to open the doors. Before she had a chance to start sorting through them right then and there, standing out in the cold in the driveway, he had her pick out one box and carried it in for her. It damned near killed his ankle to do it, but anything for his Belle.

She set to looking through them, reading the dust jackets, leaning in to breathe deeply. He had forgotten how erotic it was to watch her with her books. She loved everything about them, not only the words but the smell and feel of the books. She would run her hand over each page, lovingly stroke the covers. He noted that she was especially fond of the ones with leather covers and he wondered if she had some remembrance deep inside her of the books of their old world.

Dinner that night was the easiest they'd had so far. He ate quietly, while she chattered on about the books in the first box he brought in. She talked about where she wanted to put them, all the adventures she couldn't wait to read. He smiled, his face softer than it had ever been. In some way he had returned a bit of Belle to this Lily.

When dinner was over and he escorted her to her room, a sort of tradition that they had kept up since the first night, he opened the door and released her hand. He waited for the words, the same ones she said every night as they stood awkwardly near the entrance to her bedroom. _Please sir, not tonight_.

She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes serious. “Thank you for the books.” She clutched the one she still held to her chest. “Goodnight, Mr. Gold.” 

* * *

 

It had been six months since he had first given her his proposition, six months since she had agreed to be his wife, at least in name only. More books had arrived, little by little, and he had turned the attic into a library for his Belle. She spent most of her days there, reading the books that kept appearing. He had people in to build shelving units, had given her a couch not so unlike the one at the Dark Castle. Sometimes he even visited her in her sanctuary, but only when invited. It was her domain and he wanted her to feel safe there, safe even from him.

Their dinners had become less constrained, less quiet. She picked out books to read that he recommended and they discussed them. They often argued over the fine points and he found that the more she read and the more she opened up, the more she was willing to voice her opinions even if they were contrary to his. Belle had always had strong opinions. It seemed those had been buried somewhere deep in Lily, but they were starting to come out. The savior’s arrival was weakening the curse in so many ways and the quiet, mousy Lily who had little interest in the world around her was starting to open up to that world. Every once in awhile he saw a glimmer of Belle in her eyes, a sort of steely determination to enjoy life to its fullest no matter what sort of lemons it handed to her.

Six months, one week, and five days into their marriage, he asked her if she would like to go out on the town. “The night life is a little limited, but I thought you might appreciate getting out and seeing what’s there.” There wasn’t much to see, really, but she had been cooped up in the house for nearly the entire time they had been together. Before that, she had spent most of her time holed up in the flower shop her father owned or tied to their house, too afraid to do much for fear of angering her father.

When he saw her eyes light up at the suggestion he knew he had made the right choice. She raced upstairs to change. It was a cold night and she was underdressed for the weather. He liked to keep the house fairly warm. Belle had often complained about the chill in the Dark Castle so here, where the house was sealed with proper insulation and he had centralized heating, he opted to keep it at a comfortable temperature for her, even if he was often a bit too warm.

She returned soon after, dressed in a large comfortable sweater and a pair of slacks. She slipped her feet into a pair of warm fur-lined boots. When she came to stand at his side, he realized the boots weren’t the high-heeled ones she often wore. He often forgot how perfectly tiny his Belle was. Not many women were so much shorter than he and sometimes it still felt odd to be looking down on her the way he was. He was used to her high heels that put her at nearly the same height. When she was this much shorter he felt like she was fragile and had to fight his protective instincts, had to fight to allow her out and not keep her hidden away in his house where no one could harm her, where she wouldn’t experience a cross word.

“You do realize people are going to talk about us?” he said as way of fair warning before they left the safety of his home.

“Are they?” she murmured, pausing for a moment to grip his arm tightly.

“They are.” His voice was tight. He had been out every day to his pawn shop and while the talk had died down, he knew that as soon as he appeared with his young wife on his arm it would start again. “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.” It would be a shame if they didn’t, really. She deserved more than being holed up in his home. She deserved more adventure than what she read in her books, what she fashioned in her mind. This Lily seemed to crave those adventures as much as his Belle did. 

“No,” she shook her head fiercely. “I will not be cowed by others. Let them talk.”

He smiled at her and plucked a hat off the rack near the door, tucking her hair behind her ears before pulling it down over her curls. “That’s my girl.”

The two of them stepped out into the wintry weather and almost as soon as the cold hit her, Belle moved closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her and then stopped, freezing for a moment. “Is this…”

“Yes,” she interrupted with. “Yes. I don’t want to be cooped up tonight. Please. Let’s not pay them any mind. Let’s just go out and ignore them all.”

He couldn't help but smile. She may not be Belle, but some of her fire was coming back.

They spent the evening walking the town. Belle was insistent that they not take the car. She had spent enough time being cooped up and she wanted to breath in the air, feel the world around her. She didn't care if everyone stared at them. And stare they did. He felt terribly uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on them. The whispers started almost as soon as they passed and while he couldn't hear the words, he knew all too well what they were. _Why is she with him? She could do so much better. I heard he bought her from her father, all that wealth and power wins over any woman I suppose._

A few times he froze in place when the words were loud enough to hit him. But this woman who was not quite Belle, she simply pulled him tighter to her side and stood tall, her eyes fierce as she stared them all down. "Let them talk."

They had dinner at Granny's and despite the obvious discomfort of those around them, the conversation flowed easily. He toasted her with his glass of wine. She raised her glass of iced tea and toasted both of them. Sometime in the past few months she had settled into their relationship, however odd and uncertain it may be. She no longer shied away from the occasional light touch. When his hands brushed hers as he handed her a glass or a book she no longer flinched. She seemed more relaxed, sitting less straight in her chair, willing to fall asleep on the couch while he sat reading in the chair across from her. She trusted him. And it made him feel a hundred feet tall, like he could defeat dragons…well, alright…in the old world he _could_ defeat dragons. But here, without his magic, he was just the crippled town monster.

"Are they still talking about us?" Belle finally asked partway through the dinner.

He sighed. "This town has little else to interest them, my dear." It was the best explanation he had.

She reached her hand across the table and took his much larger one in hers. Running her fingers over the knuckles and feeling the lines and indentation there, she smiled before looking back up at him, meeting his eyes. "I really don't see what's so fascinating."

He grimaced slightly. "A pretty young woman who married _me_? It's endlessly fascinating. After all, why would someone like you marry someone like me, if not to raise her standard of life?" He raised one eyebrow at her and watched as she clutched at her glass. It was really an inauspicious beginning for them. She _had_ married him for his protection and to escape her father. It left her father better off, though the man was already eating into his profits by spending too much money on cheap liquor and gambling. And no doubt the town thought it left _him_ better off, with a pretty young thing to grace his bed. After all, who would want the town cripple?

"Well they don't know you like I do."

He smiled, just a small one. In all worlds, in all realms, memories or not, she knew him. She would _always_ know him. She even knew him the first time they met, seeing through the bravado and fierceness of the Dark One to who he was deep inside. Sometimes he forgot how his Belle could strip him bare emotionally with just a glance.

They left the diner shortly thereafter and the walk back to his house…no, _their_ house…was much shorter than the one out. The winds had settled in and the temperature had dropped some ten degrees since they left earlier that evening. She leaned in close to him and he wrapped the arm not occupied with using his cane around her, pulling her tight against him, shielding her from the worst of the cold.

Silence reigned for the walk back. It was not awkward, not as it had once been between them. It settled on them companionably instead, a sort of strange comfort. Two against the world. Once back at the house, he escorted her inside, offering to take her coat and hat, neatly putting them away before turning back to her.

“Shall we retire?” The words were familiar, the same as he spoke every night for the past several months.

She looked up at him and reached out a hand to grasp his, nodding almost shyly. “Yes…I think so.” She rarely touched him of her own volition in this world. He had forgotten how often she used to touch him, always putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly touching his hand, hugging him when she was particularly happy. She had been so turned inward as Lily that she had lost that particular spark. But it was returning.

He let her draw him up the stairs, finally coming to stand outside his bedroom, an odd alteration of the usual way this went.

Then she stepped a little closer and placed one hand on his cheek. He shut his eyes against the sensation. She was too close. It was too much. He felt her shift, felt her press up against him and he stiffened slightly. And then her lips were on his, just like the first time, soft and almost uncertain.

She pulled back slightly and his eyes opened, met hers. _Could she_ …He searched her eyes, looking for that spark, that certain something that made her his Belle. He almost spoke her name aloud as he studied her. _Was she_ …

A slight crease formed between her eyebrows. “Gold? Shall we retire?” She indicated the door behind him.

His shoulders drooped. She was not his Belle, still the cursed Lily French. “No.” The word came out on a mere whisper. “Not tonight.” And he backed into the room, shutting the door between them as soon as he was safely inside. Someday, perhaps, when she knew who she was, but not tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with sequel: [Tonight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2058411)


End file.
